Family
by Opheliadarling
Summary: What if the end of Return of the Jedi went just a little differently? Read and review please!
1. Prologue

Summary: An AU fic exploring what might have happened if the final moments of _Return of the Jedi_ had gone just a little bit differently.

Of course, I don't own Star Wars. All credit for everything related to Star Wars goes to the brilliant George Lucas.

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Leia Organa licked her lips, her face a mask of shifting emotions. The white bulkhead door loomed large before her, so strong and so final. One delicate hand reached for the button that would open the thing, pausing elegantly to retract for a fraction of a second before being pressed forward again. With an easy hiss, the door yielded open, and Leia Organa stepped inside.

The small bunk space within was untouched, tidy but not pristine. It was as though it had just been left unattended for a moment, as though the occupant might return at any moment to greet her. With a sigh, Leia walked further in and closed the door behind her. The room was small and plain, a drab gray-white like the rest of the Alliance Cruiser _Sanctuary_. The cabin had a low-set bunk, a low ceiling, a closet, and a short desk all packed into a few feet of floor space. Nothing remarkable, nothing too personal. A jacket was slung over the back of the chair near the desk. Leia moved to it and slid the material through her fingers absently, looking down with blank eyes at the Alliance insignias on it, the rankings, the awards. Her hand tightened to a fist around the material. Her eyes crushed closed as pain distorted her pretty features and she sank silently to the floor, pulling the jacket with her.

She clung to the cloth as though it were sanity, clutching it to her chest with a quiet desperation, as though she somehow hoped that if she only held it tightly enough, the owner of the jacket would return through the door to claim it. Minutes passed, and her hope was proven false. No, he would not be returning any time soon. She had allowed him to slip away from her, to slip away from _them_, without a fight. A lone tear escaped her eye. It was her fault that he had been captured. She should have stopped him. She should have made him stay and wait!

But in her heart she knew she could have done no such thing. Luke had been so sure of what he would do, and what Vader would do. And now he was lost, perhaps forever. She remembered the way his hand had slid from her grip on the forest moon, the way he'd melted into the twilight without another word. And now? The best guess regarding her brother's whereabouts came from Leia's intuition. He was alive, she knew that, and under terrible torture. Not pain – _at least, not yet_, she thought – but psychological pain.

He'd been gone 10 days already. She knew her brother was trying to shield her from his ordeal, but their connection was strong enough (or the pain was bad enough) that she would still see flashes of what he was seeing. Not enough to tell her how to help him; just enough to know that he was in the clutches of the Empire, aboard a Star Destroyer, and in terrible danger of losing his life, his sanity, or his soul.

She knew everything from the Alliance side: how they'd lowered the shields, how they'd blown up the power generator, how everything had gone according to plan. But it had been too slow; this time the Empire had designed the reactor to contain itself, destroying the station in pieces to allow time for ships to clear away and important people to evacuate. She'd felt Luke be forced onto a transport with the Emperor and Vader, and she'd felt his disappointment as they cleared the event horizon unscathed when the Death Star blew. Leia had wanted to attack the shuttle and get him back, but the Alliance fleet needed to flee before the remaining Imperial ships could track them. The fleet had leapt into hyperspace as soon as the remaining troops were safely off the forest moon, leaving Leia gazing out the window of the cruiser at the shuttle that was taking her brother to Vader, and quite possibly to his doom.

She squeezed her eyes more tightly shut and felt rage burn through her veins. _Vader_. The man was supposed to be Luke's _father_! Her eyes opened to stare without focus at the bed before her. The man was supposed to be _her _father too. How could she and Luke, two people so devoted to the Rebel Alliance, come from such a cruel and heartless machine? With a cry of anger and anguish, she flung the jacket at the bed.

The cloth didn't make a satisfying noise as it hit the storage compartment at the base of the bed, but it did cause one of the little spaces to pop open, and a strange cylindrical object rolled out and across the floor, finally resting near Leia's knees. The princess picked it up cautiously, uncertain of what it might be. But then her eyes widened in shock and recognition. It was clearly a lightsaber, worn in places and scored with marks of use. But why would a lightsaber be here in Luke's chambers? He'd had his only one with him on the Forest Moon and taken it to the Death Star.

Leia turned the unignited weapon over in her hands absently. Where could it have come from? Did Luke even own it, or was it somehow left by another Jedi from times past, before they were all wiped out? She continued to ponder, but soon realized her musing was pointless. She could never guess, but perhaps she could know. She was hardly a trained Jedi, but her instincts had always served her well in the past, and she followed what her body guessed now. She closed her eyes, relaxed as best she could, and reached with her mind to probe the saber in her hands.

The moment she touched it, she felt a surge of Luke's presence. He had used it, that much was certain. It echoed his pain, his loss, his determination. But then, below that, Leia felt another presence. This presence was laced with darkness, a strange brand of hate and fear mixed with a bittersweet love. But despite the presence of love, Leia knew without a doubt that the saber had also belonged to Darth Vader when he had been Anakin Skywalker.

The princess opened her eyes, considering the weapon again. How Luke had recovered it at Bespin was anyone's guess, but he'd clearly kept it even when he'd made a new one. She turned the time-worn barrel in her hands. Just before he left Luke had told her that she was the only hope for the Alliance if he didn't make it back. Of course, she'd thought the idea was ludicrous. But then he'd revealed her parentage and their relationship, and suddenly it seemed a lot more possible. She twirled the still unignited weapon in her hands. Could she do it? How could she learn with no Master to teach her? It couldn't be done. Even before Yoda, Luke had been taught the basics by Ben Kenobi. She knew nothing. She made to put the weapon down.

But what would happen to the Alliance? Who would defeat Vader and the Emperor? Luke was held prisoner, tormented every day. The Empire was already rebuilding. Trainer or not, she owed it to the Alliance – to her brother – to try. She pulled the weapon back toward her chest, and her face changed from pensive sadness to grim determination. She closed her eyes and tightened her grip around the lightsaber. She heard the buzz of the weapon springing to life, and a flicker of blue light slipped through her closed eyelids. And then she opened her mind and let the Force flow into her.

--

Far across the galaxy, three pairs of Force-sensitive eyes flew wide open. In his palace on Coruscant, Emperor Palpatine's face contorted into an angry snarl. Pacing on the bridge of the star destroyer _Victory_, Darth Vader simply blinked and sighed, barely hesitating for a step. On a hard metal bunk in the prison block of the _Victory_, Luke Skywalker dared to risk a smile. He felt Leia's presence explode into the Force, and he knew that she had decided to try. For the first time in 10 days, Luke dared to hope.


	2. Chapter 1

Still don't own Star Wars. Or anything of importance, really, other than my own free will. And some textbooks.

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"Lord Vader, the Emperor demands that you make contact with him at once."

The Captain's voice cut sharply through Vader's thoughts, but his announcement was not unexpected. If he had felt the girl's acceptance of the Force, surely his master had. Without a word to the nameless officer, Vader swept off toward his communications platform. Certainly his master knew that another Force-sensitive being had discovered the Force, but did the Emperor know the identity of the girl? Vader didn't need to scan Luke's thoughts to know that the girl was his sister, but the Emperor might not have the same knowledge. Leia's presence (the name was easily enough plucked from Luke's mind) within the Force was so like Padme's that he would have recognized it had he nothing else to confirm it. He tried to probe further into the girl's – his daughter's – mind, but met with no success. He sighed in irritation, wanting to press further but remembering it was futile. During her captivity on the Death Star he had used every method of interrogation known to Jedi, Sith, and torturer to pry the location of the Rebel base from her mind, and yet she had held strong. He sighed again, more a growl of anger than a simple exhalation. Clearing his mind, the Dark Lord knelt upon the podium and the hologram of the Emperor flickered to life.

"We have a new enemy, Lord Vader."

"I have felt it too, my master."

"She must be found and terminated. You will find her when you find the Rebel fleet. You must ensure that she does not survive."

"Should we not turn Skywalker first, my master?"

"You will turn Skywalker while you search for the Rebel fleet and this girl. Use any methods you deem…appropriate, Lord Vader."

"As you wish, my master."

The hologram faded, leaving bare wall. Slowly, Vader rose. The Emperor had not mentioned the girl by name, nor had he connected her with Luke. Was it possible that the Emperor was indeed unaware of Leia's identity? Perhaps his strength with the Dark Side of the Force was waning. After all, he had missed Luke's presence on the forest moon when Vader himself had felt it.

He would think on this more. But now, he had more pressing matters to attend to. His son waited, discontent in his cell. Vader needed to turn him no matter what the Emperor's state. With a heavy breath and a swirl of black cloak, Lord Vader turned on his heel and strode off toward the detention block.

--

Lying on a hard metal bunk several levels below, Luke was pondering Leia's sudden decision. His thoughts had betrayed her once before, but not by name – he refused to let his mind reveal anything more about her. She needed all the shielding and anonymity she could get. He'd wanted to reach out to her when he'd first felt her in the Force. He had longed to touch her mind, to let her know that he was confident that she could do it. He wanted to help her learn, to teach her and to support her like a brother should. But he knew that reaching out to her when he was so close to Vader (and so far from her) was dangerous. That was why he had shielded himself from the moment he'd seen the Alliance fleet jump into hyperspace. The shield wasn't just to protect her from his experiences, although he certainly didn't want her to know what Vader and Palpatine were trying to do to him. More importantly, he didn't want her to be able to send him any information or support. Her untrained mind might reach out to him without her ever realizing it and then be ensnared by Vader; he prevented that by putting up the barrier. She'd be able to sense that he was alive and his general whereabouts, but she wouldn't be able to send anything that might hurt her or the Alliance.

Of course, his shielding wasn't perfect. He knew that Leia had telepathically witnessed some of the more brutal moments of his torture, and he wished she hadn't. She didn't need the burden, especially now that she was walking the Jedi path. If she was angry, even on her brother's behalf, she would be that much closer to falling.

Luke rose to sit on the edge of the metal bunk, putting his head between his hands. He remembered how close he had come to the Dark Side only a few days ago. Vader had threatened Leia, and he had let his anger get the better of him. He'd beaten his father back with the Dark Side, using his anger and his aggression, forgetting himself entirely and cutting of his father's hand. He'd almost been ready to give the killing blow, but the Emperor's laughter had stopped him. He remembered the old man walking toward them, and then seeing the stump of his father's obviously mechanical right arm. He'd flexed his own right hand, feeling the circuits fire and the gears shift. And then, just as the Emperor announced how close he was to completing his journey to the Dark Side, Luke had felt the anger drain from him.

His next words had been simple enough: _"You've failed, your highness. I am a Jedi, like my father before me." _And with that statement he had been prepared to die. But Palpatine had other plans. He'd simply snarled and turned away. _"So be it…Jedi."_ The word had practically dripped with sarcasm. Luke had steeled himself for an onslaught, a death warrant, something. But Palpatine simply called to his attendants. _"Guards! Take this 'Jedi' to a cell." _On the way there the reactor had been hit; Luke had dared to hope for death for a moment, but Vader had been there instantly to bring him back to the Emperor and tell him how there would be time to evacuate. The station had exploded, but neither the Emperor nor Vader (nor Luke) had gone with it.

And there had been no death for Luke since their shuttle had landed on the _Victory_, just a never ending stream of tricks and pain to turn him. He'd resisted so far, but he could only hold out for so long. The Emperor could torture him to the brink of insanity and bring pain like none he'd ever known – torture enough that even Leia, strong, wonderful Leia, could barely discuss them when questioned directly by the Alliance High Command. He knew that he would break at some point. Perhaps he wouldn't turn to the Dark Side, but he would cease to be Luke Skywalker. As he saw it, only two things could save him: his father or his sister. He could only pray that one of them came in time.

So far, rescue by Leia looked more likely. Over the past few days Luke had seen little hesitation in his father, and that in turn had made every moment of his experience more painful. Vader could stop it. Vader could save him. And yet, his father did nothing. Luke's mind told him that he had to consider the possibility that Anakin Skywalker was truly dead, but his heart still he felt an undercurrent of good in the man. Anakin Skywalker was there, he had to be – he was simply buried beneath the metallic shell of Darth Vader.

The door opened with a hiss, revealing the Sith himself, flanked (as always) by the requisite two Stormtroopers. Luke did not rise to greet his father, nor did he speak; he forced calm onto his features and into his heart, making his mind blank and preparing for whatever new provocation he would be made to endure. Vader said nothing, dismissing the Stormtroopers with a wave of a black-gloved hand.

"Where are the Rebels hiding?" Vader's voice seemed more mechanical than usual.

"I've told you, I don't know." Luke was careful with his response, telling the truth with quiet calm. They had discussed this before, and both knew it.

"Is Leia with them?" Vader's voice lingered for a moment on his daughter's name. Hearing it, Luke started off of the bench and stood straight up. How had Vader found out Leia's name? Had Luke somehow betrayed her? He felt anger boil beneath the surface and remembered how mention of Leia had nearly sent him over the edge in the Death Star throne room. It took effort for him to center himself and regain some appearance of calm, but he refused to bend. If he gave in to his emotions now, it would be the beginning of the end. He had to fight it. He remained standing, but the belligerence of his first reaction ebbed away. The young Jedi looked straight ahead, examining the wall rather than looking at his father.

"I don't know." The statement was only partially a lie; Luke suspected his sister was with the Rebels, but his mental shields were strong enough to keep him from actually knowing.

"We will find her. We will find her, and we will turn her. She is not as schooled as you are, my son. You failed her by not teaching her sooner." Luke winced a bit at Vader's words. He knew that the Sith lord was baiting him, but the painful truth was still too real. If Leia was found and turned, it could spell disaster for the galaxy. She would prove to be as powerful as her twin; Luke alone could not destroy Leia, Vader, and Palpatine. Vader sensed his son's thoughts and knew he must use them.

"It will be all too easy to show her the power of the Dark Side of the Force. Her feelings for you run deep indeed…she would do anything to spare you pain. You, my son, will be her undoing." Vader's voice was flat, his words a knife he twisted into Luke's soul. He could feel the youth's pain and fear and sensed that he had found Luke's weakness. This girl was more important than the Emperor knew: she might become a threat, but she already was the perfect leverage to turn her brother toward the Dark Side of the Force.

Without another word Vader swept out of the room, leaving Luke in silent despair. Trapped as he was, there was nothing Luke could do save hope. His sister had to be strong. She had to be willing to sacrifice him for the greater good, if that was what was required. But even as he pondered, he remembered his own choice to leave Dagobah to save Leia and Han. He knew that Leia's actions wouldn't be any different if she had to make the same choice. She'd fly off just as he had. He could only pray she wouldn't lose her hand – or her soul – in the process.

Lingering outside the cell door, Lord Vader read his son's mind with ease, and a grim smile lit the face beneath the mask. Using Leia to turn Luke would take time, but it would succeed. He set off down the corridor, his black boots echoing on the metal of the floor.

--

**Author's note:**

**Wow, quite a few hits already! The idea only just popped into my head this morning, and it hasn't left me alone since. Sorry if these first bits were a little slow, but I needed to lay out the backstory of my little alternate universe. Expect more action and general excitingness in upcoming chapters. Much thanks to those who have already reviewed! I LOVE feedback, especially if it's constructive criticism. **

**Much love,  
Ophelia**


	3. Chapter 2

Only in my dreams do I own Star Wars. Sigh.

--

Finding the training droid had been easy enough. It had been neatly tucked away in another drawer in Luke's room - although she couldn't say whether he kept it for the practice or the memories. Luke had told her all about Ben Kenobi and the trip to Alderaan, the beginnings of his training…and the pain of Kenobi's death. In a sense, the little round training orb was the last connection Luke had to his first Master.

_Zap!_

Leia swore, rather loudly, as a bolt from the training droid hit her upper arm. She'd gotten lost in thought and distracted, bad both for her immediate comfort and for her training as a whole. Blast it, time was running out! A full week had passed since she'd found her brother's (father's) light saber. A full week of Jedi training – or as close as she could come to it, given that she only knew the few things her brother had told her. And another full week that Luke had been in the clutches of the Empire.

Frustrated, Leia deactivated the droid and the lightsaber and resisted the urge to throw the latter against the nearest wall. Instead, she collapsed into a nearby chair, dropped the weapon at her side, and tried to calm herself. Jedi are always at peace, she thought. Anger, frustration, hatred…those emotions are of the Dark Side, she knew. But they seemed so _human_…how could she lock them out? And how in the galaxy could she do it all in time to save her brother without being turned herself?

She bent over in her seat and put her head in her hands, closing her eyes with a sigh. "It's just not possible. I'll never be ready in time to help Luke." She felt sorrow and failure wash over her. "I can't do it."

"If believe that you do, fail, you will."

Instantly, Leia's head came out of her hands and she rose from the chair, and all traces of her introspection vanished. Only a strong instinct kept her from igniting the lightsaber, although she noted with some interest that the weapon seemed to have jumped into her hand. Had she used the Force? She must have; she didn't pick it up.

The visitor who had spoken a moment before seemed to notice the same thing and with just as much interest. The creature's long ears raised slightly as it looked at her, its small mouth tightening just a bit. Altogether it couldn't have been more than two feet tall, wrinkled and green, but radiating a power that seemed incongruous with its size. Leia relaxed slowly, her mind recalling Luke's description of his teacher on the strange swamp planet of Dagobah. Small, green, with an aura of peace and power.

"Yoda?" She was surprised and a little uncertain, her words and inflection unknowingly echoing her brother's from so many months ago. She was almost certain she'd identified the little guy correctly, but she didn't quite understand how he could be here. Luke had told her on the way to the moon that Yoda was dead. On the way to the moon. Leia felt her stomach twist uncomfortably at the memory. They'd left the cruiser together and they'd thought they would all return together. And so they had, Han, Chewie, and most of the Rebel troops with them. All of them but Luke.

The Jedi Master pressed his lips together and raised his ears as though evaluating the woman before him. Leia, like her brother, was far too old to begin the training. Both should have been raised in the Jedi way, taught meditation and focus, taught the ideals of the Order that had survived for so long. But that Order had fallen, destroyed by the very being that the last two Jedi had to call "father". There was no early training, no discipline, no meditation from a young age. But both twins were strong with the Force, they had good hearts – and they had the fate of the galaxy resting on their young shoulders.

"Yoda, I don't know what to do." Leia moved toward her visitor, still unsure how the Jedi could appear. Luke had once mentioned that Ben Kenobi appeared to him as a sort of ghost…was Yoda doing the same thing? "I don't have any training. I don't even know where to start." Yoda listened quietly, letting the princess speak. She shook her head, shifting the lightsaber in her hands. "I don't have enough time. Luke will die or be turned to the Dark Side, and it will be my fault. I'm just not good enough to save him." Her voice rose steadily in pitch and emotion. "Blast it, I don't even know what I'm _doing_ here! I should be looking for him, not training. I'm wasting my time!" Leia resisted the urge to fling the lightsaber away.

Yoda raised his ears, remembering a very similar conversation he'd had with Leia's twin. Luke too had been frustrated and angry. And what had come of his training? Had it been successful? He had resisted the Dark Side, at least so far. The Jedi Master sighed.

"Much anger you have. Like your father." Yoda paused, his eyes meeting Leia's. She clearly resented the comparison to Anakin. "And like your brother." She was both calmed and concerned. Luke had had anger too? But Yoda simply continued to look at her, his face focused as though he were searching for something in his eyes. "Hmm." She was so similar to her brother! Such a desire to help, but such a dangerous Skywalker temper. Both needed to learn control. Both had their father's weakness. Both could overcome it. Yoda sighed, his mind made up. "Help you, I can."

"But how? You're dead." Leia's frustration had faded, replaced by despair. If only Yoda was still alive! She could have appealed to him for teaching and help. But now he was only a blue-edged shadow inside a quiet training room. But dead or not, he seemed disappointed at her lack of faith. He had closed his eyes and his ears and head were drooping.

"Even after a Jedi becomes one with the Force, his spirit can remain behind." This was a new voice, colored with a slight accent and heavy with years of wisdom. Leia turned to the source of the words, finding another blue-tinted ghost, this one of a human man with white hair and a kind face. Leia recognized him immediately even though she'd only seen him for a handful of moments during a frenzied dash across the hangar of the first Death Star.

"Ben? Ben Kenobi?" He nodded in acknowledgement.

"Yoda and I are here to help you, Leia. We can assist you with your training, if you will allow it."

Leia turned to look at both Jedi Masters. They looked so real, so serene. Could they help her? They could talk well enough. Certainly they wouldn't be able to help her wield a lightsaber, but they could tell her what she was expected to do. They could explain meditation. They could describe. They could teach, even if they could not touch. Her mind made up, she nodded.

"Can I be trained in time to save Luke?" She was clearly trying to use her politician's skill to keep her voice level, but both Jedi heard barely-hidden undertones of desperation and hope. The two men looked to one another as though conferencing silently. When they turned back to her, it was Yoda who spoke.

"Clouded, the future is. If work hard you do, help him you might. The rest is uncertain." His answer was truthful and somewhat reassuring. Even now, Luke's fate was not sealed. There was still a chance, however remote, that she might help her brother. Resolve coursed through her veins, giving her strength and focus. She would give her training her every effort. She would learn everything as quickly as possible, working harder and longer. She had no choice. Luke _needed_ her. She wouldn't let him down. She took a deep breath.

"I will work hard, Masters. I will do everything you ask of me. I will become a Jedi." _Luke, I won't let you down._

"The task is not impossible, Leia." It was Obi-Wan's voice again, and she turned to face him (_his ghost?_) "You already know more than you think. Your diplomatic training has taught you how to control your mind. You'll find meditation is quite similar to that." The old Jedi paused. "The Force is strong in your family. I suspect you've already used it without any training at all." He was right, of course. She'd used it to know where Luke was. She got the sense she'd used it when Vader had tortured her aboard the Death Star – how else could she have kept the Rebel secrets from him? She nodded silently.

Yoda broke the silence briskly. "Time to waste, we have not. With meditation, we begin." The green Jedi's spectral form settled down on top of a table, allowing him to watch Leia closely. Obi-Wan took one of the chairs in the area, watching Leia but allowing Yoda to take the lead in instructing her. "Sit down. Relax, you must. Open your mind." Leia obeyed, sinking to sit on the hard ground of the makeshift training room. "Feel the Force, how it flows through you. By living things is it created, but through everything it flows…"

And so Leia Organa, guided only by her instincts and two dead Masters, began her training.

--

**Author's note:**

**I hope you guys like this! I spent quite a bit of time on it to make sure I kept everyone in character. I have a midterm tomorrow, so I wrote it a little hurriedly. I should have some more chapters written over the weekend , but in the meantime, read and review please (and thanks to everyone who has reviewed and put this on story alert!!) Constructive criticism is much appreciated. Of course, I also love to hear that people are enjoying this. It is exponentially more fun to write when I know that somewhere, someone is having fun reading it.**

**Yours,**

**Ophelia.**


	4. Chapter 3

I've gotten tired of coming up with a new disclaimer. George Lucas please don't sue me – now, or for any future chapters. Okay? Okay.

--

The halls were dark and quiet. The _Sanctuary_ ran with a skeleton crew at night and Ackbar had wanted some sort of normal planet-like schedule, and so the lights dimmed and the machinery quieted down when the chronos struck 20:00. Most Rebels were asleep, she knew. She could feel them around her, calm and dreaming but always ready. Ready and willing – she'd always thought of them like that, ever since she'd first learned of the Rebellion. But now, as Leia walked between the white bulkheads she could _feel_ them, the soldiers lying in their bunks just beyond. Their dedication to their cause was like warmth on her soul, their good hearts and good intentions a balm to a stressed spirit.

She paused for a moment outside her own cabin. Well, not her own cabin, the cabin she shared with one Han Solo, ex-smuggler and current…what? There was so much unsaid between them, and now they barely talked at all. It had been all right before Leia had found the lightsaber, and even after when she had been teaching herself. Goodness knows, with the fleet in uproar and Luke missing and supplies to be gathered and plans to be made, there had enough to keep Han busy. And, to be safe, she'd always trained when he was on duty. But today marked the fourth day of her training with Masters Kenobi and Yoda, and she was beginning to understand that "dedication" and "Jedi dedication" were not the same thing. She'd thought she was training hard before – but now she was carving every spare moment out of her day, spending long hours in her little training room and returning long after her shift was up and long after Han had turned in for the night. She checked her chrono. 03:00. She had to be on duty again at 06:00. She pressed the panel, felt the whoosh of air as the door slid back, and saw light spill into the corridor.

Light? Was Han awake? Immediately, she looked up. Two pairs of brown eyes met, one with a bit of surprise, the other without the usual twinkle.

Han was seated at a chair belonging to a small desk beside their (shared) bed, but he'd turned the chair so he could put his feet – his _booted_ feet - up on the bed. He looked perfectly at his ease, and she wondered how long he'd been waiting. She chastised herself mentally; she'd felt the presence of most every other Rebel on the way from the training room. Why hadn't she been clever enough to realize Han wasn't asleep?

"Well Your Worship, glad you could join me. I was beginning to think you'd moved out." Justified or not, his words stung. He hadn't called her by anything other than Leia since…since Bespin. With a deliberate effort, Leia cleared her mind. Once she might have snapped back at him, but now she knew it wouldn't do anything – it was late, they were both tired, and she knew he didn't mean to hurt. Han just didn't deal well with being insecure. Besides, if she was to be a Jedi she couldn't afford anger or frustration.

"Han, I-" She stopped short when his eyes left hers to stare very fixedly at her left hand. For a moment she wondered why, and then she felt a chill run through her. The lightsaber. She kept it with her at all times now, and she hadn't been thinking about it when she'd walked in here. She tried to move it out of sight against her leg, but it was too little, too late. He'd seen it, and they both knew it. But did he recognize that it was a lightsaber? His eyes returned to her, no less hurt but a lot more confused.

Under the gaze of his brown eyes, she couldn't stay silent. But she wasn't going to lie to him, or fight with him. She licked her lips. "Han, of course I still live here. It's just…we've both been stressed…" Her voice was warm, caring, and honest, but she didn't think he'd buy it. After all, this was Han Solo. She doubted she'd be getting to sleep tonight (this morning) without telling him just what it was she did with her every waking moment.

"It's Luke, isn't it." It was a statement, not a question, and for a moment she was confused. The ex-pirate had a strange expression on his face, pained but resigned – as though he'd found proof of something long dreaded.

"Han…" she wasn't sure where she was going with her speech, but Leia knew she wasn't going to talk to him from a doorway halfway across the room. She moved to the end of the bed and turned to look at him over her shoulder. But still she found herself at a loss for words; how could she even begin? He thought the Jedi were a bunch of fakes (or so he said). And what would he make of her family ties? Luke as her brother would be easy, she guessed. It was their father that would prove more difficult. She glanced down at her lap and swallowed hard.

She was still looking down when she felt the bed shift and heard his chair move across the floor. He stood, but did not move further. She looked up at him, lips parted as though she were about to speak. But he just looked at her, his face speaking of pain and longing, of caring and of fear.

"Let me guess: you can't tell me." His face twisted into that sad, wry grin that only he could ever wear. "Well Leia, if you ever decide you can tell me, I'm not hard to find." And he looked down at her once more as she looked up at him, and then he walked toward the door. His boots, she noted, made a sharp sound on the white floor. She took a moment to breathe, and then she was up and moving, reaching the hall just moments after him.

"Han!" Her voice was commanding, piercing. He stopped and turned toward her, and she stopped short. So short that the object she'd been holding absently in her left hand slipped from her grasp. Both watched as it tumbled, finally coming to rest near Han's feet. Treacherous little thing that it was, it then proceeded to roll the final distance, coming to rest against the smuggler's leather boot with a delicate thump. Naturally, he reached and picked it up.

Leia simply stood in the dim light of the doorway, waiting. Of course Han would recognize the saber – after all, he'd even used it once. He looked to the cylinder, then to her, then back to the cylinder, his expression strangely unreadable but very serious. As though he still didn't believe it, he flicked the switch and ignited the weapon. After studying it for a moment more, he let the blade go dark again. He looked back to her, holding the weapon with a strange tenderness, but in his eyes she saw the unspoken question. She could not withhold the answer.

Reaching easily into the power of the Force, Leia called the lightsaber out from his grasp. It came easily to her, landing lightly in her outstretched right hand. Her eyes never left Han's. His face was a shifting mass of emotion, sliding from confusion to disbelief and hitting most everything else along the way. But he still remained guarded from her – he was veiled, as though he wasn't sure if he could trust her with the full intensity of whatever he was feeling.

"Han, I - " "Leia, I - " The two lovers spoke at the same time, suddenly wanting to explain themselves and stumbling over one another in their haste. Han recovered first. "You're…you're a…" He wasn't quite sure how to put it; when it was Luke, the Force was one thing. But this was Leia.

"Force-sensitive?" She finished his sentence for him. He nodded. And then it was her turn to nod. "I should have told you." She dropped her gaze, eyes sinking to the floor. When she looked back up to Han he had taken a few steps toward her, but he remained silent. She was suddenly aware of how quiet the ship was around them; they might talk, but not here in the hall.

"Come back inside – please." Her voice was earnest, and Han hesitated only for a moment. He paused again for half a moment just outside the doorway, but then slid past her quietly. Neither missed the closeness of their bodies in the narrow space, and both realized how much of a mistake it was for them to argue. Regardless of spats or strong wills, they were magnetic in a way that was difficult to deny. With a small sigh Leia turned and followed him in, closing the door with one hand but keeping the lightsaber in the other. Somehow, the weapon helped her to focus, and there was little point in hiding it now.

Han took a seat by the desk again while Leia remained standing. He watched her in the artificial light. Looking at her like this, it was glaringly obvious that something within her had changed, maybe had been changing ever since Endor. He'd held her after Luke had left. He'd held her when Luke hadn't returned. But then, she'd stopped asking to be held. Now perhaps he knew why.

"Luke told you, didn't he?" Leia nodded in confirmation. "Just before he left Endor." Her voice was soft, but strong. "But that's not all. He told me that-" her voice caught a bit, and she had to steel herself to continue. "He told me that if he didn't make it back, I was the only hope for the Alliance." She stared determinedly at a bulkhead, unable to meet Han's eyes. Fierce emotions and memories flowed through her, searing like molten ore. She took a deep breath and reached for the calming comfort of the Force. Dimly she heard the sound of Han rising from the chair, and before she knew it she felt his strong arms wrap around her. She melted against him, glad for the very human comfort.

"I'm sorry." The apology was muffled by the closeness of his shirt, but she knew he heard her. "The training is…intense. That's where I've been – practicing." He hadn't asked her outright, but she hardly needed to use the Force to know that he'd been wondering. He was by nature a rather jealous sort, complex and with much more of a fragile ego than he let on. It was all she could do to stroke that ego every so often – especially when it had been so incorrectly bruised.

They remained in easy silence for a moment that dragged into eternity before both realized that it was late and they needed sleep. With the practiced ease of two people newly living together, they prepared for bed and crawled beneath the sheets, content and together. Han slipped instantly into sleep, but Leia lay awake for a moment longer and studied his sleeping form. She should have told him the rest of it. It would have been so easy. She sighed and closed her eyes. There would be other chances. And with that thought she drifted into the easy world of dreams.

--

**Author's Note:**

**Well, that turned out quite a bit longer than I was expecting. Han is by far the toughest for me to write for, so I hope you can forgive me if he's a little out of character here. Oh and, even though I had already started work on this scene before I posted Ch. 2, hopefully this answers the "where's Han?" question that some of my reviewers were asking. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed this, put it on story alert, and the one person who favorited it! Keep giving me feedback – I really want to know what y'all think!**


	5. A Note From the Author

Dear readers,

I haven't forgotten about this story! I will very definitely finish it – don't worry. But, at least for the moment, updates will be few and far between. I am in college, and I happen to have a rather insane amount of work right now. But once that's over I will update again, I promise.

Much love,

Ophelia


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